


MORTALITY

by mXrtis



Category: Marble Hornets, Slenderseries - Fandom, Slenderverse - Fandom
Genre: Gen, this is just "second person hell" im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2679581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mXrtis/pseuds/mXrtis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gun shot echoes throughout the barren room and your first thought is, 'fuck.' and then there's blood on your shirt and blood on your hands and you aren't exactly sure what's going on.<br/>(Jay's death told from his POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	MORTALITY

The gunshot echoes throughout the barren room and your first thought is, 'fuck.' and then there's blood on your shirt and blood on your hands and you aren't exactly sure what's going on.

You think back to Alex for a second, then your mind jumps to Tim and then to, 'well fuck! Alex has a gun!'. You can't get your mind to focus and it just gets trapped in a downward spiral; Alex, Tim, gun, wash, rinse, repeat. The cycle snaps and you blink. Someone stands over you and your heart feels like its going to beat out of your chest. There's even more blood on your hands and on your shirt and there's some on your camera, OH SHIT, you think you're going to drop it. But you can't drop it, you need to let them know. Your mind snaps back to the tall man, he reaches for the camera. His arm stretches out too far, even for his strangely long arms. That's what you notice, the arm. The long, long arm. Reaching for you.

Reaching -- your vision goes dark for a second and when it comes back your head is spinning. You feel like vomiting and sleeping; maybe both at the same time. But neither of those are good options, since you're pretty sure you're not supposed to fall asleep when you're losing a lot of blood. Or maybe that was for concussions... You don't know. Your back is against a wall, but your vision keeps getting all blurry and dark splotches sort of drift across your periphery. You almost laugh for a second, it's just like the fucking visual tears on the tapes. Tapes... TAPES. FUCK. THE CAMERA. You don't know where it is, you look around to try to take a mental inventory. Blood, check, bullet wound, check, hat, check, shit ton of ominous papers scattered across the ground, check?, camera, NOPE! Try again later! 'Okay, okay,' you tell yourself, 'sure, I'm probably bleeding out, but isn't it important to investigate anyway?'.

"Yeah, I guess it is..." you answer yourself aloud. It hurts to move, you tilt your head and keep your hand pressed against the wound in your stomach. The papers all seem to have a symbol on them. Well, not just "a" symbol, THE symbol. They're sketchy, and sort of look like Alex's handwriting, and, is it just you or are they moving? Wavering almost... You shake your head, (bad idea, your vision blacks out for a second and you feel even more shitty than you did a minute ago), to try to clear the thought. About half of them say, 'YOUR FAULT'. 'Whose fault?' you ask yourself, but the ability required to answer is a bit too much for you right now. You keep looking around the room, trying to figure out where you are. Some things about it seem familiar to you, but you aren't sure what is and isn't real right now and you're starting to feel anxious. Your palm digs into the wound on your stomach, (like that'll keep you from bleeding out), and, oh god, there might still be a bullet in there... You try to inhale slowly; inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, in-hey, there's a mirror over there.

It has 'YOUR FAULT' written all over it as well, but you think you've seen it before. Without all the writing on it, of course, but you _have_  seen it. Your hands are starting to go numb, and your vision blacks out whenever you turn your head. But you NEED to find out where you've seen the mirror before. You don't remember why, but you need to do this. It's all that you can find to anchor yourself on right now. Your eyes start to close, you feel like nodding off. You snap them back open, then your head begins to loll, your vision trails downwards. You see the wooden paneling underneath the mirror, then you see the carpet, then you see the notes. Your head hits against the wall and you blink, look at the wall, and think. You know where you've seen the mirror. You know the carpet. You know the wall your head now rests against. But fuck if you remember where you know it from. Your vision blacks out again, and it hits you...  _Tim_. This is Tim's house. But you can't open your eyes again, and you're tired. You're so tired...

"'M jus' gonna sleep it off..." you whisper to no one in particular. You feel your arm loosen its grip against the gunshot and you lean into the wall.

 


End file.
